Last night I had a night-mare. I, among hundreds, was in this massive concrete facility with armed guards, police, and soldiers everywhere. It was cold, with high walls, razor wire, angry guard dogs and people, armored vehicles and shadows & flood-lights. Thematically it was a mixture between Guantanamo Bay, OPP, and the movie Children of Men. Everyone was harsh, people were controlled, I was afraid - "What will happen next?" "What will they do next?"
People were getting hurt.
Every moment was terror.
I then realized at one point: "I am dreaming. I do not want this - wake up." There was a certain pull to keep on sleeping, to stay in the dream. It took effort - I was enchanted by the immaculate fear sequences. I chose to resist it.
I woke myself up.
Then these words came to me, I turned on the light, picked up my notebook & pen and wrote them down. They seemed important:
" Notice your thought-processes and trances that produce hopelessness & despair.
Develop your ability to stop, pause, and distance yourself enough to consciously choose to insert a new story in its place.
This new story is based on choice, meaning, inderdependence (this is a part of you), and care.
Have the new story form the basis of the new operating assumptions for your actions that you take.
After surveying the situation, pick key specific areas to take key specific actions.
Act out of care, show care. Ask questions. Say things to high-light care for all & our interdependent nature - "I see that a lot of us are wanting trust/respect right now and are making choices where people get hurt."
Point out the zeitgest that we are all under and feeling, but do so with care. Eventually point out the choices that we make to carry it on.
Multiple personality disorder is when you have more of an identification with the different parts within yourself and not with the internal collective identification that you call "I".
The kind of identification ("We", "I", fragmented self) that you have determines the kind of decisions that you make, the reasons that you have for making them, and subsequently, where your attention is placed.
Your identification can either scale-up or scale-down, but regardless of that, your attention can be placed anywhere.
Doris Lessing said: "I don't see ideas as being personal, they're collective experiences going on simultaneously. It is not 'my idea', rather, there is 'an idea that is around'". Based on this, look for others who hold the same idea, & more specifically, that carry the same idea onwards - 'the next piece'. "
Monday, January 7, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
From the Finders to Lost and Beyond: A Reflection on 2007
I would like to talk some & reflect upon 2007. You are welcome to join me.
When I think about the year 2007, two things strike me the most. It is that I did a lot of traveling across the country in hopes of discovering a new way of life and "what to do with my life." The assumption was that if I figured out one, then the other would be easier to get as well. This isn't all that 2007 was about for me, of course, but this is what jumps out at me as being the lesson for me to learn for the year.
2007 began for me high & embittered & alone at a party at Twin Oaks Community. My experience at that party was not quite what I had wanted, and I ended up sleeping in the back seat of a van curled up in a fetal position to stay warm in the early hours of the morning.
The year exists within an incredible context - the fact that everything is going to hell. People everywhere tell me not to read the news, that I'd be happier that way. But I can not ignore the world that we live in. Everything is just so amazing. So the context is always on my mind, not out of wanting to overwhelm, but out of a desire for... Realism?
My first big journey of the year began in January to go to California to visit my romantic partner. Most of my time there was spent with her, and that really was my primary focus for that trip. That time there, and the relationship throughout the rest of the year, was characterized by a lot of caution, intensity, and pain. Vacillations between wonderful connection & agonizing disconnection.
Coming out of that relationship, I seriously question now how, or if, it is best for me to relate with the concept of "romantic relationships". My history with these things, when involved, is for me to put in far more time, energy and feeling than what in retrospect I think is healthy. I get consumed by them. In 2006 I went through a vasectomy operation so that I can guard against a possible situation where raising a child would be my (or someone else's) primary use of attention. Perhaps it would be wise for me to draw a similar clear-cut line against my involvement in romantic relationships? (what would the physical surgical equivalent be - castration?) Perhaps it would be best for me to put my attention onto other things?
After California, I went to Florida. This marked the beginning of a pattern for me. You see, when I say that I went "across the country", that is not really true. There are certain places that I went to again & again throughout the year. All in all, in 2007, I went to Mississippi & Michigan once, California & up-state New York twice, New York City, New Orleans and Florida three times each, and Virginia, Maryland and Washington DC countless times. The rest of the country was pretty much unseen by my eyes, or at most was a brief passing-through.
Why did I do all this travel? A lot of it was circumstance - so-and-so was going to such-and-such and I was invited to go along. A lot of it was event-oriented, a specific event was happening at a specific place and I was encouraged to attend. The rest of it was me drifting, just floating along following the strongest currents.
As I said earlier, I did a lot of my travel with an underlying theme of "searching" going on in my mind. Wanting to know what to do with my life & energy. Hoping that going to a certain place would reveal it to me, or that at the very least I would have a profound revelation along the way, at some airport, bus or gas station. Things never quite worked out that way, although I did find a lot of my experiences to be quite meaningful nonetheless.
One of the most powerful things to strike me this year is the sheer potential behind what I call "dispelling the illusions". By this, I mean what Nonviolent Communication calls "observation without evaluation or interpretation" or what others call E-Prime. In other words, being able to identify exactly what happened and not mixing that in with what we think about what happened, or any supposed meaning behind what happened. I have been talking about this principle for years, and am just now realizing how very little I have been applying it in my own life. This seems to me to be an un-used foot-hold to use to walk out of the cloud of incessant thinking, back into the world of tangible reality.
For the sake of transparency, most of my year when looking back at it from this lens without illusions, has been spent by me sitting down, reading, walking, talking - all-the-while thinking thoughts. That's what a camera would show. Well, I guess that a camera couldn't "show" the enormous role that thoughts have in my life, but that's how I experience it. To use an analytical term, I have been lost in a cloud of thoughts. The impetus behind these thoughts, generally-speaking, has been me wanting to find meaning & direction.
One thing that I have wanted to find meaning & direction with is regarding the issue of group identity. This year I made my own list of fundamental human needs(you can see the list here) and one of the needs that I listed there, in the "social" category, is "group identity". This is important.
Group identity, the story of who "we" are together, provides a sense of purpose & strengthened cohesion to a group. Groups sometimes go to war with each-other or persecute individuals when they sense that their group identity is threatened. For me, this has always been a very important need of mine, and much of 2007 was spent with me trying to find ways to meet that need.
Throughout the year I have had different experiences with different groups, resulting in this need not being met for me. With CapitolNVC there never fully evolved a story of "we" that everybody agreed to and felt good about, although people certainly did try! With the Finders we eventually discovered that the story that I wanted and the story that others had didn't exactly match up, even though there are some strong over-lapping similarities. The story that Common Ground tells I like a great deal, however the pain:processing ratio was not balanced enough within that group to have it be sustainable for me. I like the Baha'i story of "we" for humanity, but the story of what it means to be a Baha'i does not fit for me. Other groups that I have been involved in initiating have not sufficiently cohered, with enough subscribers and faith invested, for me to have this need met through it.
The romantic relationship thing that I was talking about earlier is a kind of group identity, I believe. It is a story of "us", of two. It is precisely the collective identification within this kind of relationship that I am questioning.
All of this aside, I also want to acknowledge that a great deal of pleasure, and pain, can be had from these group relationships regardless of identification. Heart-felt connection is the key. A strong group identity just adds a certain magical something special to it - the magic kiss that turns the living beautiful frog into the living beautiful prince. I got a great deal out of my relationships with my partner, the Finders, and then later Common Ground. It has been very hard and painful for me to have all of these different relationships end this year, or rather, transitioning-out-of-intimacy.
What I want is this - an intimate (not to be confused with sexual) relationship with a group of people, consciously committed to supporting each-other through pains & hardships, all subscribing to a story of "we", a group identity, that matches up with the meaning & purpose that I personally find in life. The meaning and purpose that I find important is grounded in values of sharing, respecting autonomy, and mutual care, while directly addressing the situation of the world. Using the mindset of "dispelling the illusions", I would have to translate what this would look like into terms of concrete doable actions. I have not found the mental stamina to do this yet.
One experience that had a big impact on me this year, that I am still trying to make sense of & orient myself around, was my time spent in New Orleans. Both my experience at Common Ground as well talking with different activists & organizers there, left me very shaken up by the real-life effects of violence & social disintegration. At Common Ground there were sexual assaults, fights waking me up in the middle of the night, open alcoholism, unexpected expulsions and a large bloody fight that happened among a large group of volunteers. In New Orleans itself outside of Common Ground, I knew people who were assaulted on the street, witnessed open gang warfare, locked away in jail for a month for no real reason, had their neighbors unexpectedly murdered in their own home, and who had their house torn down without their permission.
Within myself as well, in New Orleans I also felt myself disintegrate. I felt more anger there, more contempt, and more desire to commit physical violence than I have in a very long time. All my compassionate values, my Nonviolent Communication training, my Rogerian revolutionary aspirations, was not strong enough for me to embody it and bring it out into the world. In New Orleans, I felt as if I was living within a fractal reality of violence & disintegration. Within myself, a group of 30 people, a group of 274,000 people, and a group of 6.6 billion people, the same fundamental dynamics & patterns were playing themselves out simultaneously. I can not live like this. This experience more than anything re-affirmed for me the importance of having a conscious & committed social support structure.
Throughout the year I have met a few people through which I have found inspiration to continue pursuing the above-mentioned vision. I will name two.
On July 4th I met Dominic Barter in Oakland, California. This guy is a Nonviolent Communication trainer currently living in Brazil, originally from England. Dominic is well-known for developing & implementing a widely-used Restorative Justice process for the education & criminal justice ministries of Brazil. He is also an anarchist, was once a squatter, and has an interest in the work of Carl Rogers, similar to myself.
What I like about Dominic Barter, what I find to be personally meaningful, is the clarity through which he thinks and the fearlessness through which he acts. I like his beliefs & values, of course, but it seems as if he has somehow applied them in a way that so far I have only aspired to.
Dominic has a process that he calls "Walking in the Dark", which consists of identifying your fears and going towards them instead of habitually away from them. You identify whatever blocks that you have which keep you from doing that, and you address them. Then you find someone who has power in the situation that you are afraid of, and you have a direct conversation with them. You make clear doable requests of them, and you stay within an NVC-style dialogue. I would like to do this.
The other person is Lost. This is someone that I met in New Orleans, an ex-Common Ground volunteer, and someone who I interviewed for the "Just and Sustainable New Orleans" radio project. Lost is the founder and main person of the Termite & Vine: Home for Lost Girls & Boys", the "Re-Thinking the House" project, as well as a well-known advocate for "homesteading"(the term here referring to a more sophisticated version of squatting) in New Orleans.
I was struck - I had just come from the Finders, and here was "the home for Lost Girls & Boys". The sub-title of Dominic Barter's "Walking in the Dark" process is "Without Getting Lost", and here, was Lost. The name seemed fitting though, because all of New Orleans, including myself there, and especially the local anarchist scene, all seemed so very... Lost.
What I like about Lost, find inspiring, is the open-ended creativity that I see in her and her fearlessness. I mentioned "fearlessness" with both Dominic & Lost, so I guess that this is a big thing for me. Both of them have the ability to talk with bureaucrats & cops as well as criminals & drug addicts. They both can establish working relationships with people on the top & the bottom of the social hierarchy, and still remain true to their anarchist principles. With Lost I perceive a creative imagination that sees a million ways to express one's self, a million ways to potentially meet the need for housing, and a million ways to make things work.
There are two authors who made a big impact on me in 2007 - and these ones aren't dead guys for a change! They are Doris Lessing and Manfred Max-Neef. Lessing showed me that it is possible to think comprehensively about spirituality, sociology, and psychology and still express it in a poetic & compelling way. Max-Neef is the originator of the list of fundamental human needs that Nonviolent Communication is based upon, but he is not an NVC guy. He is concerned primarily with local community development in areas with very little monetary resources, and he is essentially anarchist. Now that really got me thinking...
2008 rolls around, and I am on the moon-lit sand dunes of Jacksonville Beach, Florida. The waves of the ocean are whispering behind me and the conversations of small groups are murmuring around me. The clock strikes midnight and loud electronic music starts thudding wildly in front of me, spark-blasters begin at full-force to my sides, and rockets take off into the sky behind me. I walk through the enormous iron gates into the rave of well-groomed yuppies.
So, then, where now? I don't know. I have a bunch of different options before me, and a bunch of different things that I can say. I don't know where I am going to live or what I am going to do. I don't want to buy into any of the pre-fabricated options before me, because that just wouldn't feel right. I feel as if I have all of the thousand puzzle pieces out on a table in front of me, and I don't want to just give up & buy a sleek pre-made print.
Dominic Barter says to have your requests be as clear & specific as driving directions. In order to write that out, I first need to consult the map, my heart. If there is any lesson that I can draw from 2007 it is that my own guide is within me. We just need to talk.
When I think about the year 2007, two things strike me the most. It is that I did a lot of traveling across the country in hopes of discovering a new way of life and "what to do with my life." The assumption was that if I figured out one, then the other would be easier to get as well. This isn't all that 2007 was about for me, of course, but this is what jumps out at me as being the lesson for me to learn for the year.
2007 began for me high & embittered & alone at a party at Twin Oaks Community. My experience at that party was not quite what I had wanted, and I ended up sleeping in the back seat of a van curled up in a fetal position to stay warm in the early hours of the morning.
The year exists within an incredible context - the fact that everything is going to hell. People everywhere tell me not to read the news, that I'd be happier that way. But I can not ignore the world that we live in. Everything is just so amazing. So the context is always on my mind, not out of wanting to overwhelm, but out of a desire for... Realism?
My first big journey of the year began in January to go to California to visit my romantic partner. Most of my time there was spent with her, and that really was my primary focus for that trip. That time there, and the relationship throughout the rest of the year, was characterized by a lot of caution, intensity, and pain. Vacillations between wonderful connection & agonizing disconnection.
Coming out of that relationship, I seriously question now how, or if, it is best for me to relate with the concept of "romantic relationships". My history with these things, when involved, is for me to put in far more time, energy and feeling than what in retrospect I think is healthy. I get consumed by them. In 2006 I went through a vasectomy operation so that I can guard against a possible situation where raising a child would be my (or someone else's) primary use of attention. Perhaps it would be wise for me to draw a similar clear-cut line against my involvement in romantic relationships? (what would the physical surgical equivalent be - castration?) Perhaps it would be best for me to put my attention onto other things?
After California, I went to Florida. This marked the beginning of a pattern for me. You see, when I say that I went "across the country", that is not really true. There are certain places that I went to again & again throughout the year. All in all, in 2007, I went to Mississippi & Michigan once, California & up-state New York twice, New York City, New Orleans and Florida three times each, and Virginia, Maryland and Washington DC countless times. The rest of the country was pretty much unseen by my eyes, or at most was a brief passing-through.
Why did I do all this travel? A lot of it was circumstance - so-and-so was going to such-and-such and I was invited to go along. A lot of it was event-oriented, a specific event was happening at a specific place and I was encouraged to attend. The rest of it was me drifting, just floating along following the strongest currents.
As I said earlier, I did a lot of my travel with an underlying theme of "searching" going on in my mind. Wanting to know what to do with my life & energy. Hoping that going to a certain place would reveal it to me, or that at the very least I would have a profound revelation along the way, at some airport, bus or gas station. Things never quite worked out that way, although I did find a lot of my experiences to be quite meaningful nonetheless.
One of the most powerful things to strike me this year is the sheer potential behind what I call "dispelling the illusions". By this, I mean what Nonviolent Communication calls "observation without evaluation or interpretation" or what others call E-Prime. In other words, being able to identify exactly what happened and not mixing that in with what we think about what happened, or any supposed meaning behind what happened. I have been talking about this principle for years, and am just now realizing how very little I have been applying it in my own life. This seems to me to be an un-used foot-hold to use to walk out of the cloud of incessant thinking, back into the world of tangible reality.
For the sake of transparency, most of my year when looking back at it from this lens without illusions, has been spent by me sitting down, reading, walking, talking - all-the-while thinking thoughts. That's what a camera would show. Well, I guess that a camera couldn't "show" the enormous role that thoughts have in my life, but that's how I experience it. To use an analytical term, I have been lost in a cloud of thoughts. The impetus behind these thoughts, generally-speaking, has been me wanting to find meaning & direction.
One thing that I have wanted to find meaning & direction with is regarding the issue of group identity. This year I made my own list of fundamental human needs(you can see the list here) and one of the needs that I listed there, in the "social" category, is "group identity". This is important.
Group identity, the story of who "we" are together, provides a sense of purpose & strengthened cohesion to a group. Groups sometimes go to war with each-other or persecute individuals when they sense that their group identity is threatened. For me, this has always been a very important need of mine, and much of 2007 was spent with me trying to find ways to meet that need.
Throughout the year I have had different experiences with different groups, resulting in this need not being met for me. With CapitolNVC there never fully evolved a story of "we" that everybody agreed to and felt good about, although people certainly did try! With the Finders we eventually discovered that the story that I wanted and the story that others had didn't exactly match up, even though there are some strong over-lapping similarities. The story that Common Ground tells I like a great deal, however the pain:processing ratio was not balanced enough within that group to have it be sustainable for me. I like the Baha'i story of "we" for humanity, but the story of what it means to be a Baha'i does not fit for me. Other groups that I have been involved in initiating have not sufficiently cohered, with enough subscribers and faith invested, for me to have this need met through it.
The romantic relationship thing that I was talking about earlier is a kind of group identity, I believe. It is a story of "us", of two. It is precisely the collective identification within this kind of relationship that I am questioning.
All of this aside, I also want to acknowledge that a great deal of pleasure, and pain, can be had from these group relationships regardless of identification. Heart-felt connection is the key. A strong group identity just adds a certain magical something special to it - the magic kiss that turns the living beautiful frog into the living beautiful prince. I got a great deal out of my relationships with my partner, the Finders, and then later Common Ground. It has been very hard and painful for me to have all of these different relationships end this year, or rather, transitioning-out-of-intimacy.
What I want is this - an intimate (not to be confused with sexual) relationship with a group of people, consciously committed to supporting each-other through pains & hardships, all subscribing to a story of "we", a group identity, that matches up with the meaning & purpose that I personally find in life. The meaning and purpose that I find important is grounded in values of sharing, respecting autonomy, and mutual care, while directly addressing the situation of the world. Using the mindset of "dispelling the illusions", I would have to translate what this would look like into terms of concrete doable actions. I have not found the mental stamina to do this yet.
One experience that had a big impact on me this year, that I am still trying to make sense of & orient myself around, was my time spent in New Orleans. Both my experience at Common Ground as well talking with different activists & organizers there, left me very shaken up by the real-life effects of violence & social disintegration. At Common Ground there were sexual assaults, fights waking me up in the middle of the night, open alcoholism, unexpected expulsions and a large bloody fight that happened among a large group of volunteers. In New Orleans itself outside of Common Ground, I knew people who were assaulted on the street, witnessed open gang warfare, locked away in jail for a month for no real reason, had their neighbors unexpectedly murdered in their own home, and who had their house torn down without their permission.
Within myself as well, in New Orleans I also felt myself disintegrate. I felt more anger there, more contempt, and more desire to commit physical violence than I have in a very long time. All my compassionate values, my Nonviolent Communication training, my Rogerian revolutionary aspirations, was not strong enough for me to embody it and bring it out into the world. In New Orleans, I felt as if I was living within a fractal reality of violence & disintegration. Within myself, a group of 30 people, a group of 274,000 people, and a group of 6.6 billion people, the same fundamental dynamics & patterns were playing themselves out simultaneously. I can not live like this. This experience more than anything re-affirmed for me the importance of having a conscious & committed social support structure.
Throughout the year I have met a few people through which I have found inspiration to continue pursuing the above-mentioned vision. I will name two.
On July 4th I met Dominic Barter in Oakland, California. This guy is a Nonviolent Communication trainer currently living in Brazil, originally from England. Dominic is well-known for developing & implementing a widely-used Restorative Justice process for the education & criminal justice ministries of Brazil. He is also an anarchist, was once a squatter, and has an interest in the work of Carl Rogers, similar to myself.
What I like about Dominic Barter, what I find to be personally meaningful, is the clarity through which he thinks and the fearlessness through which he acts. I like his beliefs & values, of course, but it seems as if he has somehow applied them in a way that so far I have only aspired to.
Dominic has a process that he calls "Walking in the Dark", which consists of identifying your fears and going towards them instead of habitually away from them. You identify whatever blocks that you have which keep you from doing that, and you address them. Then you find someone who has power in the situation that you are afraid of, and you have a direct conversation with them. You make clear doable requests of them, and you stay within an NVC-style dialogue. I would like to do this.
The other person is Lost. This is someone that I met in New Orleans, an ex-Common Ground volunteer, and someone who I interviewed for the "Just and Sustainable New Orleans" radio project. Lost is the founder and main person of the Termite & Vine: Home for Lost Girls & Boys", the "Re-Thinking the House" project, as well as a well-known advocate for "homesteading"(the term here referring to a more sophisticated version of squatting) in New Orleans.
I was struck - I had just come from the Finders, and here was "the home for Lost Girls & Boys". The sub-title of Dominic Barter's "Walking in the Dark" process is "Without Getting Lost", and here, was Lost. The name seemed fitting though, because all of New Orleans, including myself there, and especially the local anarchist scene, all seemed so very... Lost.
What I like about Lost, find inspiring, is the open-ended creativity that I see in her and her fearlessness. I mentioned "fearlessness" with both Dominic & Lost, so I guess that this is a big thing for me. Both of them have the ability to talk with bureaucrats & cops as well as criminals & drug addicts. They both can establish working relationships with people on the top & the bottom of the social hierarchy, and still remain true to their anarchist principles. With Lost I perceive a creative imagination that sees a million ways to express one's self, a million ways to potentially meet the need for housing, and a million ways to make things work.
There are two authors who made a big impact on me in 2007 - and these ones aren't dead guys for a change! They are Doris Lessing and Manfred Max-Neef. Lessing showed me that it is possible to think comprehensively about spirituality, sociology, and psychology and still express it in a poetic & compelling way. Max-Neef is the originator of the list of fundamental human needs that Nonviolent Communication is based upon, but he is not an NVC guy. He is concerned primarily with local community development in areas with very little monetary resources, and he is essentially anarchist. Now that really got me thinking...
2008 rolls around, and I am on the moon-lit sand dunes of Jacksonville Beach, Florida. The waves of the ocean are whispering behind me and the conversations of small groups are murmuring around me. The clock strikes midnight and loud electronic music starts thudding wildly in front of me, spark-blasters begin at full-force to my sides, and rockets take off into the sky behind me. I walk through the enormous iron gates into the rave of well-groomed yuppies.
So, then, where now? I don't know. I have a bunch of different options before me, and a bunch of different things that I can say. I don't know where I am going to live or what I am going to do. I don't want to buy into any of the pre-fabricated options before me, because that just wouldn't feel right. I feel as if I have all of the thousand puzzle pieces out on a table in front of me, and I don't want to just give up & buy a sleek pre-made print.
Dominic Barter says to have your requests be as clear & specific as driving directions. In order to write that out, I first need to consult the map, my heart. If there is any lesson that I can draw from 2007 it is that my own guide is within me. We just need to talk.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Drama As Addiction
I find myself drawn to drama. Everybody around me seems to be that way as well. Acting out scripted roles, full of emotion, entertainment for a higher realm. The world is going to war over this, as the scenes unfold.
For me, I seem to seek it out, in a way. It's like I'm drawn to it, and in so doing, it is drawn to me. It is a common topic of conversation for me, it occupies a lot of my thoughts and worries, it seems to be a common way for me to live my life.
Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Can you believe it?! How could he do that?! What will happen next?! Oh no!
That's the template - just plaster it everywhere. It passes the time and it gives a quick-fix of artificial meaning. But more importantly, it fucks you up. It gets you high. Strategy then becomes "need", and it is an addiction.
There are lots of addictions. I have lots of addictions. Everybody has lots of addictions. You can't walk five feet without somehow stumbling on somebody's addiction. Same goes with drama - also an addiction. Why addiction?
Let's take sugar, for example, as a point of comparison or analysis. I am addicted to sugar. I crave that shit, I eat/drink it every day. It fucks me up. I've grown used to it though, I've had it regularly since I was a child. But I see the effects - on my body, my teeth, my face, my moods, my energy - I see how all of that is affected by it. But still I go for it, and often I don't even see myself going for it.
Sleep-walking to my doom.
And I think that the same goes with drama.
Oh, the injustice of it all! The unfairness! How could they! How scary! How nerve-wracking! What to do next?! Fuck you!!!
Around and around it goes, until eventually somebody gets hurt. Or I get hurt. Or I notice that I have been spending the last 29 years of my life watching the television of my own thoughts, and they scare me. And so I don't go outside, and my muscles grow weak.
So, what am I doing?
I don't want to blame "it". ("It" being the world, institutions of oppression, my parents, you) Because I realize that "it" is really a series of choices that I am making. I am choosing my own prison, I am choosing to ride the roller coaster of drama, and I am choosing to eat shit.
And I can choose differently.
And so can you.
For me, I seem to seek it out, in a way. It's like I'm drawn to it, and in so doing, it is drawn to me. It is a common topic of conversation for me, it occupies a lot of my thoughts and worries, it seems to be a common way for me to live my life.
Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Can you believe it?! How could he do that?! What will happen next?! Oh no!
That's the template - just plaster it everywhere. It passes the time and it gives a quick-fix of artificial meaning. But more importantly, it fucks you up. It gets you high. Strategy then becomes "need", and it is an addiction.
There are lots of addictions. I have lots of addictions. Everybody has lots of addictions. You can't walk five feet without somehow stumbling on somebody's addiction. Same goes with drama - also an addiction. Why addiction?
Let's take sugar, for example, as a point of comparison or analysis. I am addicted to sugar. I crave that shit, I eat/drink it every day. It fucks me up. I've grown used to it though, I've had it regularly since I was a child. But I see the effects - on my body, my teeth, my face, my moods, my energy - I see how all of that is affected by it. But still I go for it, and often I don't even see myself going for it.
Sleep-walking to my doom.
And I think that the same goes with drama.
Oh, the injustice of it all! The unfairness! How could they! How scary! How nerve-wracking! What to do next?! Fuck you!!!
Around and around it goes, until eventually somebody gets hurt. Or I get hurt. Or I notice that I have been spending the last 29 years of my life watching the television of my own thoughts, and they scare me. And so I don't go outside, and my muscles grow weak.
So, what am I doing?
I don't want to blame "it". ("It" being the world, institutions of oppression, my parents, you) Because I realize that "it" is really a series of choices that I am making. I am choosing my own prison, I am choosing to ride the roller coaster of drama, and I am choosing to eat shit.
And I can choose differently.
And so can you.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Vignettes of Hope
Sometimes moments of beauty, hope, inspiration only comes in flashes. Brief moments, it's here, it's experienced, and then it's gone. Swallowed up by the monotony & despair of everyday life (which is one possible story that can be told). These times are a divine source of fuel.
Here are a few.
____________________________________
It is night-time, dark. The block is filled with drunk people & inane conversation. I go to the levee, to escape it all.
"What hope is there? What point???" I ask myself.
I hear a voice and I follow it.
Somewhere, someone is singing. Gospel. I don't know where, but I follow it.
Along the levee, around the turns, I go. I follow the voice, and it only gets louder with each step I take, the closer I get.
Finally I come to a house. It's the only house in the vicinity, all the others have been wiped away. Inside this one house there is one light on. And that is where the voice is coming from.
The voice is beautiful, amazing, bellowing with passion, celebration, worship and praise. Shameless, unrestrained, filled!
Parked outside is a pickup truck, a pile of rubble, and a man sitting on top of it. He is smoking a cigarette. I sit down too, taking it in.
Outside it is dark, except for that one house, with that one light.
____________________________________
A squad car pulled up to the main community house at Common Ground. Then another pulled up behind it. They bore the markings of being "military police."
A group of Common Ground volunteers was curious & concerned. We walked over to see what was up.
A C.G. volunteer was in the midst of a heated argument with a group of four young people in military fatigues, sporting "MP" arm-bands. He was angrily calling them "stupid", "control-freak", "fascist" - they were shouting back with "crazy", "delusional", "ignorant". Eventually the irate volunteer left the fray, hands in the air cursing all the insane shit that he has to deal with.
I approach two of the soldier-cops and ask about what is going on. Apparently the volunteer was seen sitting cross-legged at the end of a bridge connecting the upper & lower 9th ward. He was openly praying in a median next to cars taxiing off the bridge. This man was once a preacher, before he gave up on all of that. The soldier-cops confronted him, and after hitting on a female soldier-cop & protesting the injustice of the situation, he left. Somehow the intensity of their interaction was so strong, that the after-glow of the whole thing drew them together again once more - in front of my home.
I was curious, and asked the two of them nearest to me: "Are you all in the army?"
The female soldier-cop replied: "We", she motioned to herself and the black guy soldier-cop standing next to her, "are with the army national guard. They", motions to the other two men in uniform, "are from the air force police." I notice that the later group is wearing jungle fatigues, while she & her comrade are wearing desert fatigues.
"How old are you? I'm curious." I ask the female soldier-cop. "22", she replies. "How old are you?" asks her uniformed companion. "29", I respond.
"Do you get hit on a lot?", I ask. "All the time," she says, "you get used to it."
The two Air Force soldier-cops were excitedly talking with a group of other volunteers, while the other army reserve soldier-cop was looking back & forth between them & us.
"Have you been to Iraq?", I ask.
"We're going in a few months," she replies, "we all have to go sometime."
"Are you scared?"
"No. I don't focus on that. If I focused on that, I would more likely do something stupid. I would more likely get hit with an IED or something if I focused on being afraid."
A short-term volunteer appears. He's a big white guy, tall, muscular, crew-cut.
"I signed up", he says. "I'm in the Marine Corps. I'll be in boot camp in a couple weeks."
There is a brief silence, everybody is stunned and impressed.
A bond is then formed, and the soldiers, would-be soldier, cops, are immersed in conversation. They talk of boot camp, contrasting Army with Air Force with Marine Corps. And they talk about uniforms, and boots.
Later on, I would see the Marine recruit and his girl-friend alone standing in the middle of the street. They were directly in front of each-other, eye-to-eye, arms folded. They each held an intense stare, lowered voices, tight posture. They were Talking.
____________________________________
It was a night when the block was empty. It was somebody's birthday, and people were out drinking.
I was lonely, and I wanted to be around people. I found myself in the company of two people, one enormously well-read guy waxing eloquent on abstract philosophy with no obvious relationship with anything in real life. And the other person considerably less well-read, bitterly repeating himself about how you can't understand the Lower 9th Ward unless you were fucking born & raised there.
I wanted out. So I proposed to the group that we all go outside, to go find someone, somewhere.
"C'mon, man, everyone is out at the birthday party. Nobody is here! You know that," one of them says.
"I want to go find something to drink," the other person says. He then disappears into the night.
Jesus Christ, I thought, I will never find companionship in this place. I will never find someone whom I can talk to, have a real conversation with.
"No!", I blurt out, "we'll find someone! Let's go!" I then march off down the street & after a moment of hesitation, the other guy follows. I did what I did half out of sarcasm, half seriously, half for myself, half for show. I figured that the worst that could happen is disappointment, which is nothing new.
We come upon a Common Ground house, darkened & empty. We find two people up in the balcony talking. It is a CG volunteer and a woman whom I've never met before.
We climb up the stairs and introduce ourselves.
"My name is 'Nola'... I am named after New Orleans. I was born here and my parents really loved the place... I'm moving back here because I really need a change in my life... I want to devote more energy to public service... I want to work more on my writing... I felt called to come to New Orleans."
After that, things began to change.
____________________________________
I open a door, and find that there is a full-blown political rally/pep-talk taking place. This is unexpected. I walk in and take a seat.
Malik is standing up addressing a group of volunteers, seated & gathered around him, holding their attention.
He said many things, among them:
"Every big movement, every big thing, begins with this..." he looks to the ground & takes a few steps forward "...the first steps."
"I see people here walking around confused, I see people walking around feeling sorry for themselves. But this is not the time for that. This is the time for action, this is the time for getting it together."
"People come up to me, 'Malik, can you help me with this? Malik, I need that...' But this here is not about that. This is not about 'I', not about 'me'. This is about 'we'. What is it that 'we' need?"
"Sometimes I worry that I haven't done enough. Sometimes I think that I haven't taught enough about collective living, how to do stuff as a collective."
"People come up to me all the time, wanting to interview me, wanting to talk with me about what is going on here. But it shouldn't be like that. It should be that they can come & talk with any one of us here about what is going on."
"What is the first thing that you see when you cross over the Claiborne bridge into the Lower 9th Ward? Common Ground. I'd like it to be so that as soon as people cross into the Lower 9th, that they see a beacon of hope here, and they are drawn to it. Inspired."
____________________________________
It was a wet & rainy day. The entire day seemed to be painted in a dismal bluish gray and soaked in mud puddles. This lead to a kind of captivity in a way: You have to stay inside & work with others. The entire day my spirit felt cooped-up, constrained. And my soul was fed the soup that looked like a mush of bluish gray.
Then at some point it all stopped. The sky was no longer falling and the puddles ceased to grow. It was now safe to go outside.
I ventured out and the place was empty - nobody was out to be seen. It was a barren & glistening wet landscape.
And the sun was shining.
Everything out was given a different tone and a different color. Everything out was of a twinge of yellowish gold. Warm.
And my spirit felt alive. All around me, I felt a resurgence of energy, a replenishment.
Where at once I felt a drain, now I felt a revival.
This is a moment where it felt good to be alive.
____________________________________
Children & barges, gang-bangers & tourists, saxophone & powdered sugar. I watch the solemn mellow light of the sun permeate the sky & fade, water of the Mississippi lap up by me with a riverboat echoing jazz. And the street lamps turn on.
I love New Orleans.
Here are a few.
____________________________________
It is night-time, dark. The block is filled with drunk people & inane conversation. I go to the levee, to escape it all.
"What hope is there? What point???" I ask myself.
I hear a voice and I follow it.
Somewhere, someone is singing. Gospel. I don't know where, but I follow it.
Along the levee, around the turns, I go. I follow the voice, and it only gets louder with each step I take, the closer I get.
Finally I come to a house. It's the only house in the vicinity, all the others have been wiped away. Inside this one house there is one light on. And that is where the voice is coming from.
The voice is beautiful, amazing, bellowing with passion, celebration, worship and praise. Shameless, unrestrained, filled!
Parked outside is a pickup truck, a pile of rubble, and a man sitting on top of it. He is smoking a cigarette. I sit down too, taking it in.
Outside it is dark, except for that one house, with that one light.
____________________________________
A squad car pulled up to the main community house at Common Ground. Then another pulled up behind it. They bore the markings of being "military police."
A group of Common Ground volunteers was curious & concerned. We walked over to see what was up.
A C.G. volunteer was in the midst of a heated argument with a group of four young people in military fatigues, sporting "MP" arm-bands. He was angrily calling them "stupid", "control-freak", "fascist" - they were shouting back with "crazy", "delusional", "ignorant". Eventually the irate volunteer left the fray, hands in the air cursing all the insane shit that he has to deal with.
I approach two of the soldier-cops and ask about what is going on. Apparently the volunteer was seen sitting cross-legged at the end of a bridge connecting the upper & lower 9th ward. He was openly praying in a median next to cars taxiing off the bridge. This man was once a preacher, before he gave up on all of that. The soldier-cops confronted him, and after hitting on a female soldier-cop & protesting the injustice of the situation, he left. Somehow the intensity of their interaction was so strong, that the after-glow of the whole thing drew them together again once more - in front of my home.
I was curious, and asked the two of them nearest to me: "Are you all in the army?"
The female soldier-cop replied: "We", she motioned to herself and the black guy soldier-cop standing next to her, "are with the army national guard. They", motions to the other two men in uniform, "are from the air force police." I notice that the later group is wearing jungle fatigues, while she & her comrade are wearing desert fatigues.
"How old are you? I'm curious." I ask the female soldier-cop. "22", she replies. "How old are you?" asks her uniformed companion. "29", I respond.
"Do you get hit on a lot?", I ask. "All the time," she says, "you get used to it."
The two Air Force soldier-cops were excitedly talking with a group of other volunteers, while the other army reserve soldier-cop was looking back & forth between them & us.
"Have you been to Iraq?", I ask.
"We're going in a few months," she replies, "we all have to go sometime."
"Are you scared?"
"No. I don't focus on that. If I focused on that, I would more likely do something stupid. I would more likely get hit with an IED or something if I focused on being afraid."
A short-term volunteer appears. He's a big white guy, tall, muscular, crew-cut.
"I signed up", he says. "I'm in the Marine Corps. I'll be in boot camp in a couple weeks."
There is a brief silence, everybody is stunned and impressed.
A bond is then formed, and the soldiers, would-be soldier, cops, are immersed in conversation. They talk of boot camp, contrasting Army with Air Force with Marine Corps. And they talk about uniforms, and boots.
Later on, I would see the Marine recruit and his girl-friend alone standing in the middle of the street. They were directly in front of each-other, eye-to-eye, arms folded. They each held an intense stare, lowered voices, tight posture. They were Talking.
____________________________________
It was a night when the block was empty. It was somebody's birthday, and people were out drinking.
I was lonely, and I wanted to be around people. I found myself in the company of two people, one enormously well-read guy waxing eloquent on abstract philosophy with no obvious relationship with anything in real life. And the other person considerably less well-read, bitterly repeating himself about how you can't understand the Lower 9th Ward unless you were fucking born & raised there.
I wanted out. So I proposed to the group that we all go outside, to go find someone, somewhere.
"C'mon, man, everyone is out at the birthday party. Nobody is here! You know that," one of them says.
"I want to go find something to drink," the other person says. He then disappears into the night.
Jesus Christ, I thought, I will never find companionship in this place. I will never find someone whom I can talk to, have a real conversation with.
"No!", I blurt out, "we'll find someone! Let's go!" I then march off down the street & after a moment of hesitation, the other guy follows. I did what I did half out of sarcasm, half seriously, half for myself, half for show. I figured that the worst that could happen is disappointment, which is nothing new.
We come upon a Common Ground house, darkened & empty. We find two people up in the balcony talking. It is a CG volunteer and a woman whom I've never met before.
We climb up the stairs and introduce ourselves.
"My name is 'Nola'... I am named after New Orleans. I was born here and my parents really loved the place... I'm moving back here because I really need a change in my life... I want to devote more energy to public service... I want to work more on my writing... I felt called to come to New Orleans."
After that, things began to change.
____________________________________
I open a door, and find that there is a full-blown political rally/pep-talk taking place. This is unexpected. I walk in and take a seat.
Malik is standing up addressing a group of volunteers, seated & gathered around him, holding their attention.
He said many things, among them:
"Every big movement, every big thing, begins with this..." he looks to the ground & takes a few steps forward "...the first steps."
"I see people here walking around confused, I see people walking around feeling sorry for themselves. But this is not the time for that. This is the time for action, this is the time for getting it together."
"People come up to me, 'Malik, can you help me with this? Malik, I need that...' But this here is not about that. This is not about 'I', not about 'me'. This is about 'we'. What is it that 'we' need?"
"Sometimes I worry that I haven't done enough. Sometimes I think that I haven't taught enough about collective living, how to do stuff as a collective."
"People come up to me all the time, wanting to interview me, wanting to talk with me about what is going on here. But it shouldn't be like that. It should be that they can come & talk with any one of us here about what is going on."
"What is the first thing that you see when you cross over the Claiborne bridge into the Lower 9th Ward? Common Ground. I'd like it to be so that as soon as people cross into the Lower 9th, that they see a beacon of hope here, and they are drawn to it. Inspired."
____________________________________
It was a wet & rainy day. The entire day seemed to be painted in a dismal bluish gray and soaked in mud puddles. This lead to a kind of captivity in a way: You have to stay inside & work with others. The entire day my spirit felt cooped-up, constrained. And my soul was fed the soup that looked like a mush of bluish gray.
Then at some point it all stopped. The sky was no longer falling and the puddles ceased to grow. It was now safe to go outside.
I ventured out and the place was empty - nobody was out to be seen. It was a barren & glistening wet landscape.
And the sun was shining.
Everything out was given a different tone and a different color. Everything out was of a twinge of yellowish gold. Warm.
And my spirit felt alive. All around me, I felt a resurgence of energy, a replenishment.
Where at once I felt a drain, now I felt a revival.
This is a moment where it felt good to be alive.
____________________________________
Children & barges, gang-bangers & tourists, saxophone & powdered sugar. I watch the solemn mellow light of the sun permeate the sky & fade, water of the Mississippi lap up by me with a riverboat echoing jazz. And the street lamps turn on.
I love New Orleans.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Communication for a Better New Orleans
I originally wrote this up for the Common Ground web-site, and am posting it here to help further elaborate on the picture of life here in New Orleans - (I)
________________________________
In these times of widespread social violence, a devastated city, & devastated lives - an honest public dialogue, conversation without selling an agenda, is all the more important. That is just what happened on October 17th of this year, thanks to the Communication Department of Xavier University of New Orleans.
The event took place in the cavernous ballroom on campus, five people in a row on a panel, moderator at the side by a podium, numerous seats pointed towards them. Presented with the title of "Media, Communication, and Community: Private & Public Interests in Rebuilding New Orleans", this dialogue was moderated by Bruce France, a former public-speaking professor of Xavier University and a co-founder & co-artistic director of the local art company Mondo Bizarro. France began with a few remarks of his own, one of which was a question which he used to present to his students at Xavier:
"Are you paying attention to the world around you, or are you paying attention to what is going on for you?"
He then answered this question, for himself: "I can barely be paying attention to any of this stuff (world events). Why? Because I live in New Orleans." He then remarked on how "more people die per capita here in New Orleans than in Baghdad," and on some other challenges the city faces, and thus, the discussion began.
This dialogue consisted of a panel of five people, and the audience at large. The panel was comprised of: Bart Everson, a local activist & blogger and multimedia artist for Xavier's Center for the Advancement of Teaching. Nick Sile, a co-founder and co-artistic director of Mondo Bizarro and director of Theater Studies at Nunez Community College. Jarvis DeBerry, a writer for the local newspaper Times Picayune. Rebecca Snedeker, a documentary filmmaker and director of the film "By Invitation Only". And Sakura Kone, the Media Coordinator for Common Ground Relief.
Bart Everson spoke first: "Different demographics in this city are impacted in different ways. Middle-class, home-owners, whites - have the easiest time in coming back. Working-class, renters, blacks - have a harder time in coming back." He quoted the author Naomi Klein in her new book, "Disaster Capitalism", in regards to how disasters used to be a great social leveller, and now they have the opposite effect - leading to more stratification.
Nick Slie spoke next: "If we want to live in a different way, act in a different way, to exist in a different way, then what are we offering that is different? How do we come together to address how we share resources together?" He spoke of a philosophy of mutual aid that he believes in: "We try to say: 'if we are partnering with you, you will have the full weight of what we have, for better & worse.'"
Jarvis DeBerry then spoke: "Usually when people think of a ravaged New Orleans, what they are thinking of is the results of the free market." He added that "when I think of the free market, I usually think of corporations displacing people. But sometimes it means that nobody comes at all."
Rebecca Snedeker then spoke: "There is the important question of: 'who are we, what is our history, and how do we see ourselves?' ... when we are in this time of chaotic change, we need some beautiful images of ourselves." She ended her remarks with "the ability to absorb stories and to be inspired by them can be a valuable way for us to move forward."
Finishing the panel statements was Sakura Kone: "New Orleans was once the place with the highest rate of slave rebellions, now it is fast becoming the suicide capitol of the world ... It is incumbent upon us to not allow the ethnic cleansing of New Orleans to occur. Because if that happens, then the flood-gates would then be open, and no place will be safe." When he spoke of his coming out from California to volunteer in New Orleans, he said, "Confronted with the spirit of the people and their will to survive, I found that I could not turn my back on the situation out here."
After that, the floor was opened up to audience participation. The audience was mostly comprised of young students from Xavier University, Xavier being the country's only both black & Catholic University. The first to speak directed a question to the panel:
"How do we not become discouraged and just...leave?"
Jarvis DeBerry gave a thorough response: "Keep in mind that no other American city has ever had to deal with having 80% of the city being under water, first figure out how to rescue people, then figure out how to pump out the water, then figure
out how to rebuild. ... I think that all of us are torn between patience & impatience. ... But we need to figure out how to do something that has never been done before."
After that, the group conversation traveled to a number of different areas. Some of these included such topics as...
Collaboration, to which Bart Everson said "For just about every particular aspect of recovery, there is some organization that exists to address it." And Nick Slie said: "The big question is one of processes - how do we work together?"
Artistic expression, to which Rebecca Snedeker said, "To see some ripple effect of some project of yours, gives you the energy needed to ask for support for another project." And Nick Slie said: "How can we have a cultural economy here in this city, where we are not investing in the cultural production, but are reliant upon the marketing of culture?"
The plight of home-owners, to which Sakura Kone said, "The city passes ordinances to punish property owners who are struggling with insurance companies playing word games." and Jarvis DeBerry commented "Everybody is afraid of their property being taken away, but we can't have the alternative being nothing being done."
At one point, an audience member asked: "What are we going to be doing in the future, when we don't have people in New Orleans running things in New Orleans, because they are not educated?"
The general sentiment that was the closest to "answers" to all of the problems addressed, was two-fold:
There was the call for more discussion. To quote Jarvis DeBerry: "We need to have conversations where we ask: 'How can we build a city that works for everyone?'" An audience member said: "Just sit down and listen to someone, because everyone just wants a good ear."
And there was an explicit can-do attitude. To quote Sakura Kone: "You are only as limited as your imagination." And paraphrasing Gandhi, "Be the change that you advocate."
In these times of widespread social violence, a devastated city, & devastated lives - an honest public dialogue, conversation without selling an agenda, is all the more important. That is just what happened on October 17th of this year, thanks to the Communication Department of Xavier University of New Orleans.
The event took place in the cavernous ballroom on campus, five people in a row on a panel, moderator at the side by a podium, numerous seats pointed towards them. Presented with the title of "Media, Communication, and Community: Private & Public Interests in Rebuilding New Orleans", this dialogue was moderated by Bruce France, a former public-speaking professor of Xavier University and a co-founder & co-artistic director of the local art company Mondo Bizarro. France began with a few remarks of his own, one of which was a question which he used to present to his students at Xavier:
"Are you paying attention to the world around you, or are you paying attention to what is going on for you?"
He then answered this question, for himself: "I can barely be paying attention to any of this stuff (world events). Why? Because I live in New Orleans." He then remarked on how "more people die per capita here in New Orleans than in Baghdad," and on some other challenges the city faces, and thus, the discussion began.
This dialogue consisted of a panel of five people, and the audience at large. The panel was comprised of: Bart Everson, a local activist & blogger and multimedia artist for Xavier's Center for the Advancement of Teaching. Nick Sile, a co-founder and co-artistic director of Mondo Bizarro and director of Theater Studies at Nunez Community College. Jarvis DeBerry, a writer for the local newspaper Times Picayune. Rebecca Snedeker, a documentary filmmaker and director of the film "By Invitation Only". And Sakura Kone, the Media Coordinator for Common Ground Relief.
Bart Everson spoke first: "Different demographics in this city are impacted in different ways. Middle-class, home-owners, whites - have the easiest time in coming back. Working-class, renters, blacks - have a harder time in coming back." He quoted the author Naomi Klein in her new book, "Disaster Capitalism", in regards to how disasters used to be a great social leveller, and now they have the opposite effect - leading to more stratification.
Nick Slie spoke next: "If we want to live in a different way, act in a different way, to exist in a different way, then what are we offering that is different? How do we come together to address how we share resources together?" He spoke of a philosophy of mutual aid that he believes in: "We try to say: 'if we are partnering with you, you will have the full weight of what we have, for better & worse.'"
Jarvis DeBerry then spoke: "Usually when people think of a ravaged New Orleans, what they are thinking of is the results of the free market." He added that "when I think of the free market, I usually think of corporations displacing people. But sometimes it means that nobody comes at all."
Rebecca Snedeker then spoke: "There is the important question of: 'who are we, what is our history, and how do we see ourselves?' ... when we are in this time of chaotic change, we need some beautiful images of ourselves." She ended her remarks with "the ability to absorb stories and to be inspired by them can be a valuable way for us to move forward."
Finishing the panel statements was Sakura Kone: "New Orleans was once the place with the highest rate of slave rebellions, now it is fast becoming the suicide capitol of the world ... It is incumbent upon us to not allow the ethnic cleansing of New Orleans to occur. Because if that happens, then the flood-gates would then be open, and no place will be safe." When he spoke of his coming out from California to volunteer in New Orleans, he said, "Confronted with the spirit of the people and their will to survive, I found that I could not turn my back on the situation out here."
After that, the floor was opened up to audience participation. The audience was mostly comprised of young students from Xavier University, Xavier being the country's only both black & Catholic University. The first to speak directed a question to the panel:
"How do we not become discouraged and just...leave?"
Jarvis DeBerry gave a thorough response: "Keep in mind that no other American city has ever had to deal with having 80% of the city being under water, first figure out how to rescue people, then figure out how to pump out the water, then figure
out how to rebuild. ... I think that all of us are torn between patience & impatience. ... But we need to figure out how to do something that has never been done before."
After that, the group conversation traveled to a number of different areas. Some of these included such topics as...
Collaboration, to which Bart Everson said "For just about every particular aspect of recovery, there is some organization that exists to address it." And Nick Slie said: "The big question is one of processes - how do we work together?"
Artistic expression, to which Rebecca Snedeker said, "To see some ripple effect of some project of yours, gives you the energy needed to ask for support for another project." And Nick Slie said: "How can we have a cultural economy here in this city, where we are not investing in the cultural production, but are reliant upon the marketing of culture?"
The plight of home-owners, to which Sakura Kone said, "The city passes ordinances to punish property owners who are struggling with insurance companies playing word games." and Jarvis DeBerry commented "Everybody is afraid of their property being taken away, but we can't have the alternative being nothing being done."
At one point, an audience member asked: "What are we going to be doing in the future, when we don't have people in New Orleans running things in New Orleans, because they are not educated?"
The general sentiment that was the closest to "answers" to all of the problems addressed, was two-fold:
There was the call for more discussion. To quote Jarvis DeBerry: "We need to have conversations where we ask: 'How can we build a city that works for everyone?'" An audience member said: "Just sit down and listen to someone, because everyone just wants a good ear."
And there was an explicit can-do attitude. To quote Sakura Kone: "You are only as limited as your imagination." And paraphrasing Gandhi, "Be the change that you advocate."
Thursday, October 18, 2007
At the corner of breakdown & hope
This is an account of something that happened last night. I was interviewing two visiting college kids about their experience at Common Ground, while other activity was going on outside.
------------------
“You can’t have positive change unless you have negative stuff,” he said, the naked bulb hanging above him, lighting up his face, illuminating a particular glint in his eye, the gaze following a partially-seen rat scurrying by his side. “They just feed off of each-other, you know?”
Outside, there is chaos. Shrouded in the darkness of the night, with gutted desolate houses on either side, is a road. Right now that road is filled with people, some of whom are screaming at each-other. $280 is reported missing, and many suspect that a thief is in their midst. For some, this is a final straw, and they demand resolution.
“That’s it, this is enough!”, said the man in the white shirt, voice booming, striding determinedly down the street. “I want everybody up, I want everybody out! We are going to handle this right now! We are going to figure out who’s who, we are going to figure out what’s what!”
“So”, I ask the woman interviewee, now sitting under the bulb, “why do you think this is happening?”
“It was building up”, she said, leaning forward in her seat, “I have been noticing the tensions. The tension was really high, and then it just exploded. I was not surprised.”
We are at the Common Ground Relief site, in the lower ninth ward, in New Orleans. We are at the spot referred to as “Ground Zero”, where the levees first broke, flooding 80% of the city.
The male interviewee speaks: “Coming from our up-beat, cheerful lives, and then coming here, it is a real kick in the face. It’s definitely a depressing place to be in.”
The devastation is everywhere, the obvious physical infrastructure, as well as people’s lives. It’s all observable in some way. “I definitely see that the government is not helping in any way,” the female interviewee says.
The male interviewee looks at me, pauses. “When people are talking with you here, you definitely feel what they went through. And it has an impact on you.”
Two Katrina survivors are in the street now, locked together in a stare of rage and combat. The man lost his house, previously on this block, thrown out to a couple of blocks over. The woman was at the superdome during Katrina, experiencing a collective horror forever etched in so many people’s lives.
Now the accusation of thievery is screaming before them, and none will have this stand. Chests puffed out, hands & arms at the ready, these people are poised to tear away injustice – their shouts tell their willingness to fight.
Inside I ask “How”. How can we fight in a different way? In a way that works for all. This is, after all, what Common Ground is here for. “Solidarity, Not Charity” is a guiding principle for the organization.
She replies: “I am not really sure what will replace that kind of thing. Maybe more strength of community, more social ties. People need people.”
Outside, nervousness, a cacophony of chatter, people on cell phones, others asking each-other what to do. Nobody has any answers.
The man being interviewed thinks that what we need is hope. He sees the bringing of hope as being the most important work that Common Ground is doing. “Perhaps it takes things breaking down, the levees to break, whatever. Perhaps it takes dramatic break-down to inspire people to work together. Hope is generated by what people see is being done.”
A car speeds up to the site, and stops next to the crowd. A bunch of Common Ground coordinators jump out. They fan out throughout the crowd, each one approaching one of the most obviously distressed-looking individuals. An air of relief washes over the crowd, while many others remain uncertain of what to do.
“Community is more than building houses”, she states, “it is more social interactions.” She pauses to watch a cluster of people walk by from her group. They are carrying back-packs and bags to load up their vans. A man in a door-frame peers out from behind a curtain. “It is about having people to rely on,” she says.
Outside, the man in the white shirt screams: “We are having a circle! Everybody in the circle! Right now, we are all going to get together, and we are going to find out just what the fuck is going on!” The onlookers are stunned. Nobody knows how to respond. The crowd moves back & forth in indecision.
“By bringing people in, you’re bringing in a community”, the female interviewee says. “You need to have something with more meetings between people. You need a place for people who don’t have anywhere to go, who need that, that sense of community, that wholeness in their life.”
Inside one of the houses, about 20 college kids cringe together in fear. Some people are crying, others complain, others yell. Nobody knows what to do. They feel trapped in a place where they do not want to be. And they are terrified.
“What is this about?”, I ask. The male interviewee responds: “When you’re going through rough times, this kind of stuff is more bound to happen. People still need some hope though.” He smiles. “I know it sounds cliché to say, but hope really is the most important thing.”
Outside a steady stream of college kids are forming a moving line, like ants. They are carrying back-packs & bags from the gutted-out houses to their vans. They are walking past drunk screaming people, across empty lots where houses once stood and concrete slab foundations now remain.
“I definitely see that a lot of people rely on a kind of faith here,” the female interviewee says, “it definitely helps people to continue seeing & relating to the world around them. It almost seems, like they need it, it keeps them going.”
Outside the man in the white shirt is leaning against the tail-gate of a pick-up truck. His head is hanging down, and he is regretting yelling at the woman earlier. “We’ve always been good with each-other, me & her. I didn’t mean to ruin that. I guess it turns out that we are just too similar. A part of me is also in her.”
Inside, the woman remarks: “We saw the destruction with our own eyes. He showed us that, we can see it, and now we can spread the awareness around.”
The draw-bridge nearby is now mysteriously broken, dis-connecting the lower & upper ninth wards. Traffic is backed up on it, on both sides. The vehicles are beginning to turn around and drive away.
“Hope diffuses through the neighborhoods,” he chimed in. “Once it’s there, in a community, it just gets out there. It’s all one big diffusion.”
The doors shut on all the vans. The people are inside, the engines are running. Two roads form an intersection, and there is a van at each corner. One-by-one a vehicle takes off, until all four are leaving, in one big caravan.
The block is then empty, and quiet.
------------------
“You can’t have positive change unless you have negative stuff,” he said, the naked bulb hanging above him, lighting up his face, illuminating a particular glint in his eye, the gaze following a partially-seen rat scurrying by his side. “They just feed off of each-other, you know?”
Outside, there is chaos. Shrouded in the darkness of the night, with gutted desolate houses on either side, is a road. Right now that road is filled with people, some of whom are screaming at each-other. $280 is reported missing, and many suspect that a thief is in their midst. For some, this is a final straw, and they demand resolution.
“That’s it, this is enough!”, said the man in the white shirt, voice booming, striding determinedly down the street. “I want everybody up, I want everybody out! We are going to handle this right now! We are going to figure out who’s who, we are going to figure out what’s what!”
“So”, I ask the woman interviewee, now sitting under the bulb, “why do you think this is happening?”
“It was building up”, she said, leaning forward in her seat, “I have been noticing the tensions. The tension was really high, and then it just exploded. I was not surprised.”
We are at the Common Ground Relief site, in the lower ninth ward, in New Orleans. We are at the spot referred to as “Ground Zero”, where the levees first broke, flooding 80% of the city.
The male interviewee speaks: “Coming from our up-beat, cheerful lives, and then coming here, it is a real kick in the face. It’s definitely a depressing place to be in.”
The devastation is everywhere, the obvious physical infrastructure, as well as people’s lives. It’s all observable in some way. “I definitely see that the government is not helping in any way,” the female interviewee says.
The male interviewee looks at me, pauses. “When people are talking with you here, you definitely feel what they went through. And it has an impact on you.”
Two Katrina survivors are in the street now, locked together in a stare of rage and combat. The man lost his house, previously on this block, thrown out to a couple of blocks over. The woman was at the superdome during Katrina, experiencing a collective horror forever etched in so many people’s lives.
Now the accusation of thievery is screaming before them, and none will have this stand. Chests puffed out, hands & arms at the ready, these people are poised to tear away injustice – their shouts tell their willingness to fight.
Inside I ask “How”. How can we fight in a different way? In a way that works for all. This is, after all, what Common Ground is here for. “Solidarity, Not Charity” is a guiding principle for the organization.
She replies: “I am not really sure what will replace that kind of thing. Maybe more strength of community, more social ties. People need people.”
Outside, nervousness, a cacophony of chatter, people on cell phones, others asking each-other what to do. Nobody has any answers.
The man being interviewed thinks that what we need is hope. He sees the bringing of hope as being the most important work that Common Ground is doing. “Perhaps it takes things breaking down, the levees to break, whatever. Perhaps it takes dramatic break-down to inspire people to work together. Hope is generated by what people see is being done.”
A car speeds up to the site, and stops next to the crowd. A bunch of Common Ground coordinators jump out. They fan out throughout the crowd, each one approaching one of the most obviously distressed-looking individuals. An air of relief washes over the crowd, while many others remain uncertain of what to do.
“Community is more than building houses”, she states, “it is more social interactions.” She pauses to watch a cluster of people walk by from her group. They are carrying back-packs and bags to load up their vans. A man in a door-frame peers out from behind a curtain. “It is about having people to rely on,” she says.
Outside, the man in the white shirt screams: “We are having a circle! Everybody in the circle! Right now, we are all going to get together, and we are going to find out just what the fuck is going on!” The onlookers are stunned. Nobody knows how to respond. The crowd moves back & forth in indecision.
“By bringing people in, you’re bringing in a community”, the female interviewee says. “You need to have something with more meetings between people. You need a place for people who don’t have anywhere to go, who need that, that sense of community, that wholeness in their life.”
Inside one of the houses, about 20 college kids cringe together in fear. Some people are crying, others complain, others yell. Nobody knows what to do. They feel trapped in a place where they do not want to be. And they are terrified.
“What is this about?”, I ask. The male interviewee responds: “When you’re going through rough times, this kind of stuff is more bound to happen. People still need some hope though.” He smiles. “I know it sounds cliché to say, but hope really is the most important thing.”
Outside a steady stream of college kids are forming a moving line, like ants. They are carrying back-packs & bags from the gutted-out houses to their vans. They are walking past drunk screaming people, across empty lots where houses once stood and concrete slab foundations now remain.
“I definitely see that a lot of people rely on a kind of faith here,” the female interviewee says, “it definitely helps people to continue seeing & relating to the world around them. It almost seems, like they need it, it keeps them going.”
Outside the man in the white shirt is leaning against the tail-gate of a pick-up truck. His head is hanging down, and he is regretting yelling at the woman earlier. “We’ve always been good with each-other, me & her. I didn’t mean to ruin that. I guess it turns out that we are just too similar. A part of me is also in her.”
Inside, the woman remarks: “We saw the destruction with our own eyes. He showed us that, we can see it, and now we can spread the awareness around.”
The draw-bridge nearby is now mysteriously broken, dis-connecting the lower & upper ninth wards. Traffic is backed up on it, on both sides. The vehicles are beginning to turn around and drive away.
“Hope diffuses through the neighborhoods,” he chimed in. “Once it’s there, in a community, it just gets out there. It’s all one big diffusion.”
The doors shut on all the vans. The people are inside, the engines are running. Two roads form an intersection, and there is a van at each corner. One-by-one a vehicle takes off, until all four are leaving, in one big caravan.
The block is then empty, and quiet.
Monday, October 8, 2007
A spiritual kind of yearning
Sunday morning, I wake up, and I have a desire to go to church. I ask myself, what needs are driving me to want to go? Greater meaning and a stronger sense of purpose, is the response. Like that I/we are going somewhere important.
I react. I chicken out and choose not to go. It's a pernicious persistent response, wanting safety. I worry about the lack of social acceptance. I am also stunned, realizing that me wanting to go to a church out of my own personal heart-felt desire to be at a church with people, would be a drastic difference from how I have so far been living my life. In other words, I have never freely chosen to go to church before.
The options abound here. A Common Ground co-worker has a brother who is a local preacher. There is a local Baha'i (the religion that I grew up in) community here. And a child on the street the other day invited me to go to a church that meets in somebody's house each Sunday. I am certain other interesting spiritual-oriented places exist here as well.
I have a definite desire for more of an, I don't know, spiritual feeling in my life. I have been noticing this lack for years now. This yearning has only strengthened over time.
I also notice that I have been wanting more of a sense of "community of faith" with others. In other words, I have a strong desire to live with others who tell each-other the same stories of what is the meaning within life. I want to collaboratively create meaning together, with others. To creatively draw patterns and weave texture onto the contours laid out by our actions. To fill in the void, with something beautiful (or ugly).
Having a sense of meaning does something for me. It gives me a sense of confidence that ultimately the world that we live in and the things that we do with our lives is fundamentally both safe and good. I don't know what it does for others, but I would like to know. I have all my life, in some way or another, sought solace through living with others who in some way share a sense of faith together in something. This has never changed for me.
The last few days, I have had a spontaneous prayer flash through my mind at random moments. It is a prayer that I memorized and used to recite as a child. It goes like:
"O God, guide me, protect me, illumine the lamp in my heart, and make of me a brilliant star. Thou art the mighty and the powerful." - Abdu'l-Bahá
Thinking about this prayer has given me a sense of comfort and solace.
I believe that together, based on the meaning that we share with each-other correspondent with our actions, we can actively support each-other in either improving ourselves or destroying ourselves. It all depends on what kind of qualities we want to support into coming out. What kind of world do you want to live in?
Personally I want to support the qualities of compassion & care among people. I want a sense of freedom & being true to one's self. And I want us all to be clear on the reasons for doing things & understanding each-other on that. This is a personal value-statement on what is important to me.
The thing is, I think that everybody deep down wants these things. I am by no means unique on this. With that in mind, I then re-frame what I want, and also take it a step further by putting it in the form of a question:
"What specific agreements can we make regarding the actions that we do, in hopes of encouraging the qualities that we want to come into play?"
First off, we need a space to make these agreements. I can't even imagine having the conversation to begin with, where such a question is openly posed and seriously considered. We are so mired in superficiality and lack of focus. The first order of business then is to create the spaces where the conversations can be had.
Places for collective meaning-creation. Both the strengthening and negotiation of it. Particularly I am looking for a kind of life-inspiring meaning, something that stirs up a sort of constructive collective activity. For me, what this is referring to is a church.
Seeing this line of reasoning, I am again stunned. "Church". Perhaps it is that word. What is the meaning that I give it that makes it so?
Respect. I am so used to viewing churches in such a way that I associate them with a lack of respect. I don't think that everyone has this kind of association with the term/concept. Otherwise, how else can one explain this kind of profound motivating-energy that people affiliated with churches tend to have?
I don't know what I am going into, actually. Part of me wants to go off and join some kind of seminary or spiritual movement somehow. I just know that I want to live in a kind of shared faith together with others. And I want us to all consciously choose the stories that have of our world & that which we do to be the most wonderful as can be - all the while keeping an eye on what we are actually doing and how we are affected by that.
Ideally, everything would all be seen in the same light: the beautiful thing that we are going for, where we are, and our experience of the whole situation.
To quote the Nonviolent Communication trainer Miki Kashtan:
"Practice supports vision, community supports practice."
In short, I want it all. And I know that this involves walking forward into the dark. But I want some people there with me, to hold my hand as I stumble in the dark. The comfort of shared faith. To know that you are not alone dreaming the dream - that other people can see it too. You can see in the dark, this particular kind of vision.
I wonder what next Sunday will bring.
I react. I chicken out and choose not to go. It's a pernicious persistent response, wanting safety. I worry about the lack of social acceptance. I am also stunned, realizing that me wanting to go to a church out of my own personal heart-felt desire to be at a church with people, would be a drastic difference from how I have so far been living my life. In other words, I have never freely chosen to go to church before.
The options abound here. A Common Ground co-worker has a brother who is a local preacher. There is a local Baha'i (the religion that I grew up in) community here. And a child on the street the other day invited me to go to a church that meets in somebody's house each Sunday. I am certain other interesting spiritual-oriented places exist here as well.
I have a definite desire for more of an, I don't know, spiritual feeling in my life. I have been noticing this lack for years now. This yearning has only strengthened over time.
I also notice that I have been wanting more of a sense of "community of faith" with others. In other words, I have a strong desire to live with others who tell each-other the same stories of what is the meaning within life. I want to collaboratively create meaning together, with others. To creatively draw patterns and weave texture onto the contours laid out by our actions. To fill in the void, with something beautiful (or ugly).
Having a sense of meaning does something for me. It gives me a sense of confidence that ultimately the world that we live in and the things that we do with our lives is fundamentally both safe and good. I don't know what it does for others, but I would like to know. I have all my life, in some way or another, sought solace through living with others who in some way share a sense of faith together in something. This has never changed for me.
The last few days, I have had a spontaneous prayer flash through my mind at random moments. It is a prayer that I memorized and used to recite as a child. It goes like:
"O God, guide me, protect me, illumine the lamp in my heart, and make of me a brilliant star. Thou art the mighty and the powerful." - Abdu'l-Bahá
Thinking about this prayer has given me a sense of comfort and solace.
I believe that together, based on the meaning that we share with each-other correspondent with our actions, we can actively support each-other in either improving ourselves or destroying ourselves. It all depends on what kind of qualities we want to support into coming out. What kind of world do you want to live in?
Personally I want to support the qualities of compassion & care among people. I want a sense of freedom & being true to one's self. And I want us all to be clear on the reasons for doing things & understanding each-other on that. This is a personal value-statement on what is important to me.
The thing is, I think that everybody deep down wants these things. I am by no means unique on this. With that in mind, I then re-frame what I want, and also take it a step further by putting it in the form of a question:
"What specific agreements can we make regarding the actions that we do, in hopes of encouraging the qualities that we want to come into play?"
First off, we need a space to make these agreements. I can't even imagine having the conversation to begin with, where such a question is openly posed and seriously considered. We are so mired in superficiality and lack of focus. The first order of business then is to create the spaces where the conversations can be had.
Places for collective meaning-creation. Both the strengthening and negotiation of it. Particularly I am looking for a kind of life-inspiring meaning, something that stirs up a sort of constructive collective activity. For me, what this is referring to is a church.
Seeing this line of reasoning, I am again stunned. "Church". Perhaps it is that word. What is the meaning that I give it that makes it so?
Respect. I am so used to viewing churches in such a way that I associate them with a lack of respect. I don't think that everyone has this kind of association with the term/concept. Otherwise, how else can one explain this kind of profound motivating-energy that people affiliated with churches tend to have?
I don't know what I am going into, actually. Part of me wants to go off and join some kind of seminary or spiritual movement somehow. I just know that I want to live in a kind of shared faith together with others. And I want us to all consciously choose the stories that have of our world & that which we do to be the most wonderful as can be - all the while keeping an eye on what we are actually doing and how we are affected by that.
Ideally, everything would all be seen in the same light: the beautiful thing that we are going for, where we are, and our experience of the whole situation.
To quote the Nonviolent Communication trainer Miki Kashtan:
"Practice supports vision, community supports practice."
In short, I want it all. And I know that this involves walking forward into the dark. But I want some people there with me, to hold my hand as I stumble in the dark. The comfort of shared faith. To know that you are not alone dreaming the dream - that other people can see it too. You can see in the dark, this particular kind of vision.
I wonder what next Sunday will bring.
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